Amber Brown Goes Fourth (4 page)

I look at the clock.

I’m late for the first day of fourth grade.

Grabbing my knapsack, I yell, “Thanks,” and rush down the hall.

Mr. Robinson, the principal, stops me, makes me go halfway back and walk slowly.

Then he yells at me for being late.

I quickly walk to class, passing the third-grade room.

Mr. Cohen is introducing himself to his new class.

They are sooooooo lucky.

I rush into the fourth grade classroom.

“You’re late.” Hannah Burton looks at her watch.

“Thank you, Big Ben.” I call her by the name of the large clock in London and look for a place to sit.

Looking around the room, I see that
everyone is sitting in the same rows that they were in last year, the same seats.

I sit down in what would have been my old desk in this new classroom.

The desk next to me is empty.

“Welcome, Amber.” The teacher smiles at me. “My name is Mrs. Holt, and Tiffani explained that you were looking for your knapsack. I see that you’ve found it.”

I look up at our teacher and smile back. “Hi.”

Mrs. Holt is a new teacher.

I don’t know what happened to the old fourth-grade teacher.

Anyway, Mrs. Holt is not only new, she’s very pretty, with brown eyes, brown skin, and brown hair. Her eyelashes are the longest I’ve ever seen.

She’s wearing a long purple skirt and a beautiful pink top.

I hope that she’s as good a teacher as Mr. Cohen . . . . and as nice.

Passing out notecards, Mrs. Holt tells us to fill in all of the important information.

The first two are easy.

I definitely know my name and address.

For my parents’ names, I think about putting MOMMY and DADDY, but decide against it.

I don’t want Mrs. Holt to think I’m a jokester right away.

She already knows that I’m a knapsack-loser.

I put down my parents’ real names, Sarah and Phil.

The rest is not so easy.

What should I tell her about me?

After doodling on a piece of paper for a few minutes, I write on the notecard:

The other questions are a little easier.

Looking at the last answer, I hope that Mrs. Holt doesn’t think that I only think about myself, so I add. . . .

Then I think of one more thing that I want, and add. . . .

Finishing the notecard, I put it on the side of my desk and wait for something exciting to happen.

2,672 divided by 12.

Why is Mrs. Holt doing this to me?

“Knock knock.” Someone raps on the classroom door.

“Who’s there?” Jimmy Russell calls out.

“Orange.” Bobby Clifford turns to him.

“Orange who?” Jimmy grins at him.

“Orange you glad that we’re in the fourth grade now?”

Mrs. Holt gives them the special half smile—half frown teacher look. “Gentlemen, that was the door, not an excuse to tell a joke.”

Mrs. Holt walks over and opens the door.

In walks Mrs. Clarke, the vice-principal.

And she’s not alone.

“I just thought it would be nice to show Brandi to her new classroom and see how you all are doing.” She smiles.

Practically everyone in the class looks at Brandi Colwin, starts waving, and calls out stuff like “Welcome Back,” and “I love your hair.”

I smile at her and wave.

I like the way she looks.

She’s wearing purple leggings, a long T-shirt with lots of rhinestones on it, and pink sneakers with sparkly laces.

Her long, blond, curly hair has something special in it.

It’s hard to tell from this far away, but I can see that it’s special.

Mrs. Holt says, “Welcome, Brandi.”

A beeper sounds from somewhere in the room.

Mrs. Clarke goes into her purse and pulls out a walkie-talkie.

It beeps at her again.

She answers, listens for a minute, and then says, “He did WHAT?”

Everyone looks at her.

She says, “Excuse me, please.”

And then she walks out the door.

Brandi is just standing there, looking around the room.

I really like her new look.

Mrs. Holt says, “Now, Brandi . . . . let’s find you a seat.”

I decide that I better do something fast, so I yell out, “There’s an empty seat next to me!”

“She didn’t raise her hand.” Hannah Burton tells on me.

Mrs. Holt looks at her. “Nor did you, Hannah.”

Hannah pouts.

I smile.

“Brandi, you may sit next to Amber.” Mrs. Holt points to the empty seat next to me. “And Amber, next time remember to raise your hand.”

I raise my hand.

She nods.

“Thank you,” I say.

Brandi sits down next to me.

Hannah turns and makes a face at us.

Mrs. Holt says, “Amber, show Brandi what we’re doing while I get her a set of books.”

I show her the math book.

Brandi looks down at my work. “The answer is two hundred twenty-two and two thirds.”

“Thanks.” I look at her and grin.

Mrs. Holt brings over Brandi’s books.

While they talk, I look at Brandi.